


The Light You Gave Me

by nellii



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cold Weather, Comfort, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt Lambert, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Wolf Pack, he gets comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellii/pseuds/nellii
Summary: Lambert doesn't show up at Kaer Morhen, and Eskel and Geralt go to rescue their little brother in the snowstorm.
Relationships: Eskel & Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	The Light You Gave Me

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a collab with Wren (drachedraws on Tumblr)!  
> Find the artwork that goes along with this fic [here](https://drachedraws.tumblr.com/post/635611125156888576/the-light-you-gave-me-its-another-artfic-collab) !

When Lambert was just a pup, he and his cull snuck out into the snow in the early hours of the morning to play chase and hide and seek while the instructors were asleep. They giggled and shushed each other, a pack of wily little things creeping through the hole in the north wall like little mice. When they finally came out onto a field of pristine unbroken snow, it was like a fairytale. Reminiscent, almost, of a story Lambert’s late mum used to read him come Yuletide. In the story three children found a magic doorway to a beautiful world covered in snow. The three children, Lambert also dutifully remembered, got punished for running away when they returned home. Yet to an eager pup, the threat of punishment from the master Witchers seemed far away and unimportant underneath the call of snowball fights.

Fenrir threw the first ball of packed snow, which exploded into a flurry when it hit Lambert’s chest. The young not-yet-Witcher stared down, shocked for a moment, before letting out a playful growl and crouching down to gather powdered snow into a ball in his little palm, skin bright red from the chill. 

They played like that for hours until Vesemir caught them all, runny-nosed and laughing in the drifts, and dragged each pup back to the main hall with a snarl on his face. Lambert had taken the blame, all the other wolf pups insisting it was his idea, and Lambert had been scolded harshly by the instructor. 

Lambert found it hard to enjoy the snow after that.

Eskel and Geralt sometimes played out in the courtyard over winter; once or twice he saw them tossing snowballs. When invited to join in, Lambert scowled and ran off to hide in his room with a bottle of moonshine and his woes. 

Being the littlest wolf, the last of Kaer Morhen, wore down heavily on his addled mind. 

Some winters the cold was too much. Some winters, he made it up halfway before retreating back down the mountain with his tail tucked between his legs. He couldn’t bear the frost, not like his brothers. He couldn’t bear the cold quiet of the keep, no longer habituated with little feet running on the stones and the laughter and shouts of trainees. It was a frozen hell up there. 

Lambert made it more than halfway before he gave up this time. He was only an hour from the keep- no, less than that- less than an hour until he was submerged in frigid memory of being alone, being the last of them. His brothers would tumble in the snow and Lambert would watch on coldly.

“They better miss me if I don’t show up.” He rasped bitterly, throat aching from the windchill, eyes watering as he pushed on through the storm. Snow made its way into his boots, under his cloak, infected every inch of him with frost. 

Lambert felt a weariness overcome him, his calves burning and his fingertips numb. His eyes rolled back into his head, and then he was out. 

-

“He wrote ahead.” Eskel reminded them. “Said he was gonna come.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” Geralt added, brow furrowed, his voice rough with anger- and Eskel knew it was only to veil his immense concern. 

“He’ll show up.” Vesemir said confidently, the old man folding his arms over his chest. “He’s a strong pup. He’ll show up.”

Geralt and Eskel shared a look, the oldest of the two grunting and turning away, white hair obscuring his eyes. 

“C’mon, Geralt.” Eskel got up, grabbing his gambeson off of the back of his chair. “We’re checking the pass, make sure the little wolf didn’t get stuck somewhere.” He threw Vesemir a concerned look. “If he’s not there, we’ll come back and keep waiting.” Eskel just hoped they’d find the kid before it was too late. 

-

Lambert couldn’t feel his face. It was a bizarre feeling, numb fingers brushing over his cheeks in some attempt to warm himself up. Witchers didn’t die of frostbite, that was for sure, and Lambert wasn’t about to be the first. He got to his knees, still waist-deep in the snow and looked over over the pass. He wasn’t going to make it. He could barely move, let alone get up and walk that remaining distance between himself and Kaer Morhen. The little wolf let out a pitiful whine, and was answered with a distant howl. 

Eskel’s howl. 

Lambert pitched his head up, gulping and trying to respond from his chest. He managed a strangled cry, not a proper howl, but loud enough to be heard by his brothers.

“Esk-!” He cried out, trying to stand up and immediately falling back into the snow. “Geralt! I’m here!”

Another howl, this time it was Geralt’s. They were getting closer. Lambert squinted, trying to see through the falling snow, trying to make out those familiar shapes, but he couldn’t. He saw only blank, solid white, closing in around him like an avalanche. Drowning in frost. 

“ _ Lambert _ !” The voice was closer now, close enough that if the little wolf stretched out a hand perhaps he’d be able to reach his brothers. But he was too weak even for that. The little wolf succumbed to the snow and lay himself down to melt into the drift.

Strong arms hooked under his armpits, hoisting him up and out of the snow drift, lifting him back onto a strong chest. He parted his lips slightly, scenting the air and catching just a hint of the pine-and-leather that meant Eskel. Just a hint of the lanolin-and-flowers scent that Geralt wore only after being with his bard the rest of the year

“Gave us a heart attack, little brother.” Someone rumbled, Lambert feeling their voice from their chest pressed against his back. “We’ll get you back to the keep safe and sound. C’mon, wolf.”

-

Vesemir watched nervously as his sons hauled in his littlest pup, white and blue from the cold, shivering and shaking as the warmth of the keep hit him.

“Get him in front of the fire.” He instructed, turning to the kitchen to get the wolf something hot to drink. Lambert, upon recognizing home, made a happy noise in his chest. 

“Yeah, yeah, little wolf.” Eskel hummed, ruffling his unkempt hair still with melting snowflakes in it. “You’re home. Let’s defrost you.”

Geralt aided in carrying a frigid Lambert in front of the fire, setting him down gently on a bearskin laid out and pulling off his armor and outer layer, soaked through with snow. “You’ll be fine.” The white wolf murmured, soft enough just for him and Lambert to hear. 

Lambert, half-lucid, grinned and bumped his damp head against Geralt. “Brother.” He said, voice raspy from the cold. 

“Yeah. ‘S me.” Geralt sat down beside him, one arm around his shoulders until the little wolf was thawed enough to sit up on his own. “Esk’s here too. He carried you up.”

Lambert turned a little, outstretching a hand to Eskel who was standing awkwardly beyond the bearskin. “The fuck are you doing over there?” Lambert asked blearily. “Come here. ‘M too cold on this side.”

Eskel let out a rough laugh and knelt down beside his brother so he could leech off of his body heat. “Never seen you this affectionate. Would you accept more care if you froze yourself to death all the time?”

“Shut up.” Lambert grumbled.

Vesemir returned with a mug of mulled wine and a heavy expression of relief. “Hello, Lambert.” He said, handing the little wolf the mug and setting a palm on his forehead. Lambert bared his teeth, but didn’t shrug the old man off. Maybe he had a little love for Vesemir in his heart after all. The two had a rocky relationship, father and youngest son. All those years ago, Vesemir had been the one to scold him for playing in the snow. Vesemir had made Lambert hate the snow, hate having fun, even, but the old wolf didn’t do it out of malice. Only out of care. Lambert loved his dad, just as he loved his older brothers. 

“Hey, old man.” Lambert said eventually, frowning and looking away. He never really was comfortable accepting the sort of love Vesemir and his brothers gave so freely. 

Vesemir gave Eskel and Geralt a pat on the head each, rumbling wolfishly before turning to leave the brothers some space. 

“You were really that worried about me?” Lambert hid his face in his mug as Eskel and Geralt shared a long look. 

“Course we were, little wolf.” Eskel spoke for both older brothers, love beaming in the way he smiled at Lambert. “You’re our pack. Always gonna look out for you.”


End file.
